"I felt somewhat pensive on the drive home . . ."
By no other theory can I explain, for example, my own total failure to grow alstroemerias, the lovely Persian lilies that flower in July. On the packet--or rather on the bulb bag--it tells you that they "resent lime." Not a speck of lime did they get. It wasn't the lime they resented, it was me. Again it said that they "succeed best in half shade." They got it, but they didn't succeed; my own shadow had fallen across them. In desperation I bought them in pots, and planted them already "established." But they died down and never came up again. "Death," they had obviously said to themselves, "is better than the thought of seeing that face again."
from pages 81-82 of Garden Open Today, the final Beverley Nichols gardening book on my shelf
I've been holding this final Beverley Nichols in reserve for emergencies and, after finally finishing Night Train to Lisbon I felt the need for something that would restore my faith in the written word for, my goodness but NTtL was tedious. I was worried that GOT might be too "practical" but, thank god, even when he's been chided for being too "whimsical," Mr. Nichols writes like Mr. Nichols. It's been quite fine. My only concern is that I'll have the book finished far too soon and then what ever shall I do?
Oh, there are plenty of books around the house and out in the wide world for me to read yet. Will I identify quite so strongly with them, however? I myself have tried to grow alstroemerias and with about the same level of success as Mr. Nichols though, I swear, they are always said to be "easy" to grow.
Rather than planting anything on this dismally grey Presidents Day holiday, I gently raked the blanket of magnolia leaves from the big flower bed. There are, I am happy to say a lot of bulb flowers coming up; we should have a decent number of daffodils and later tulips, hyacinth, and iris to brighten things up as grey February gives way to grey March and grey April. Honestly, the weather is a bit wearisome this year. I feel increasingly like I'm living in an Angela Thirkell post-war summer. But, thinking of moods, there's also this, concerning a visit to an obscure nursery:
And in spite of his other-worldly appearance--he looked as if he had wandered out of an amateur production of A Midsummer Night's Dream--he must have been an excellent salesman, for when I left I had given so large an order for rhododendrons, azaleas, camellias and various other delights that I felt somewhat pensive on the way home.
--from page 72 of Garden Open Today
But hey! While there is no sign of any of the peas planted in the front forty doing anything, I have spotted several bits of green in the pots on the kitchen windowsill in which I planted leek seeds last weekend. I'm very excited (and also thinking about starting some peas indoors).
from pages 81-82 of Garden Open Today, the final Beverley Nichols gardening book on my shelf
I've been holding this final Beverley Nichols in reserve for emergencies and, after finally finishing Night Train to Lisbon I felt the need for something that would restore my faith in the written word for, my goodness but NTtL was tedious. I was worried that GOT might be too "practical" but, thank god, even when he's been chided for being too "whimsical," Mr. Nichols writes like Mr. Nichols. It's been quite fine. My only concern is that I'll have the book finished far too soon and then what ever shall I do?
Oh, there are plenty of books around the house and out in the wide world for me to read yet. Will I identify quite so strongly with them, however? I myself have tried to grow alstroemerias and with about the same level of success as Mr. Nichols though, I swear, they are always said to be "easy" to grow.
Rather than planting anything on this dismally grey Presidents Day holiday, I gently raked the blanket of magnolia leaves from the big flower bed. There are, I am happy to say a lot of bulb flowers coming up; we should have a decent number of daffodils and later tulips, hyacinth, and iris to brighten things up as grey February gives way to grey March and grey April. Honestly, the weather is a bit wearisome this year. I feel increasingly like I'm living in an Angela Thirkell post-war summer. But, thinking of moods, there's also this, concerning a visit to an obscure nursery:
And in spite of his other-worldly appearance--he looked as if he had wandered out of an amateur production of A Midsummer Night's Dream--he must have been an excellent salesman, for when I left I had given so large an order for rhododendrons, azaleas, camellias and various other delights that I felt somewhat pensive on the way home.
--from page 72 of Garden Open Today
But hey! While there is no sign of any of the peas planted in the front forty doing anything, I have spotted several bits of green in the pots on the kitchen windowsill in which I planted leek seeds last weekend. I'm very excited (and also thinking about starting some peas indoors).